


my, those red eyes

by dickhunter



Category: Corpse Husband - Fandom, TikTok - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: How does this work, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Pining, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, TikTok, i know corpse and Sykkuno are big and I have a work in progress but, idk I thought corpse and Kim dracula would look together, in which corpse invites Kim Dracula over, let my imagination go wild, slightly corpse pov, they never streamed tgt but they kinda interact in ig posts and i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28751373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickhunter/pseuds/dickhunter
Summary: so it turns out that tiktok deathcore sensation kim dracula isn’t always as doped up on adrenaline like he appears to be on social media. basically, a pretty chill person to hang with in real life. corpse’s more on the lackadaisical end, but they compliment each other like rust on chains.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Kim Dracula, Corpse/Kim Dracula
Kudos: 2





	my, those red eyes

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'll post up some 'deleted scenes' later ;)  
> pls don't ever send this work to the actual people involved  
> complete work of fiction

a vampire turns up at corpse’s doorstep at three a.m. in the morning.

or maybe he hasn’t seen a fucking human in months save for the monster in his mirror to make an informed decision on how one looks like.

the doorbell sounds like the tolling like a church bell in the dead of the night, which probably is an omen.

corpse pushes thoughts of ghosting him right there and then. maybe he isn’t ready for this: meeting someone he’s never seen. the vice grip on his phone enough to mould metal. its not too late to spring a ‘family emergency’ or a ‘wrong message’ text, but he looks through the peephole anyway.

and then there’s kim-fucking-dracula looking like he stepped straight out of the 2000s with his deathcore band tees and half bitten black nail polish and ripped jeans standing a little awkwardly at his doorstop.

“hey corpse,” kim dracula says, when corpse finally opens the door to him. the man’s much smaller than he had envisioned, but with the same deep set eyes that look a little smudgy around the edges. evidence of the red-eye flight is evident on his face. but when he peels the black surgical mask from his face, there’s a wide smile beneath.

so it turns out that tiktok metalcore sensation kim dracula— or just plain sam, or whatever it’s cool, isn’t always as doped up on adrenaline like he appears to be on social media. basically, a pretty chill person to hang with in real life. corpse’s more on the lackadaisical end, but they compliment each other like rust on chains.

...

sam works hard, like really, really hard when he’s focused-- and so does corpse. not that corpse’s distracted, of course, but he’s been sneaking glances at him singing snatches of their newest song, and kind of likes the way he dissolves into raucous laughter when he hits the wrong key. they’re comfortable and at ease, and corpse doesn’t feel the need to hide away any part of him or to overcompensate.

they finish the song in good time, three days into the week, and corpse breaks out the everclear close to midnight to celebrate.

two hours in, and corpse's almost certain he has six fingers instead of five. that maybe sam coming over is a hallucination when he had invited a random supermodel for a hookup.

maybe he’s piss drunk to fight it, but when sam slowly drapes himself over his lap, chair swivelling under their shared weight, and kisses him so hard he see stars.

their shared bottle of vodka and mixers tips over the ground at their feet, but neither of them can be bothered. and in the midst of it all-- when they finally pull away-- “you’ve got a pretty mouth,” corpse says carefully, voice gravelly and impossibly deep. his tongue’s numb like it means everything and nothing at once, afraid to trip mines in spite of what the other man had initiated, but instead sam just laughs, flicking his hair out of his face. scoots off his lap and sinks to the ground between corpse’s legs.

they don’t talk about that night.

but as for the remainder of the week, it’s all in all its good fun given their similar tastes in music and how easily he slips into his scheduled streams. sam even picks up a couple of strategies when corpse introduces him to among us.

it’s a good thing sam doesn’t have the burning need to explore the rest of san diego and instead will rather spend the time indoors watching netflix.

corpse briefly wonders if maybe this could be his version of happily ever after, that maybe the two of them can stay camped together in his apartment discovering the next musical trend for the rest of eternity. but in eighteen hours, sam’s got a plane back to australia to catch, and corpse has to get on with life.

he doesn’t send sam to the airport, and pretends to not see the wistful look in his eyes. he watches from the window when sam gets into the cab, maybe expecting him to look up at the window like some soap drama shit.

but then the car finally speeds away and he floats into his bedroom and lets his bed swallow him whole.

a few days later, there’s a new instagram story notification that pings on his phone. corpse thumbs the screen and squints at the photo: it’s a black and white photo of him lounging on a couch--his couch, looking a bit bedraggled but nonetheless ravishing. ‘WE MADE SMTH GOOD,’ the caption says.


End file.
